Aces High
by FireSign
Summary: -Mockingjay Spoilers- Primrose Everdean's fight for home was not big, or brave, or particularly important. But some debts need to be paid.


**Title**: Aces High

**Summary**: -Mockingjay Spoilers- Primrose Everdean's fight for home was not big, or brave, or particularly important. But some debts need to be paid.

**Author's Notes**: I wrote this for 's September 2010 challenge. I've been avoiding Hunger Games fanfiction, especially stuff set during/after Mockingjay, like the plague while I get a handful of in-progress stories written in an attempt to avoid influence. So this idea has probably been done before, and better.

Four words were floating around in my head- Prim. Peeta. Healing. Debt. I found myself wondering about Peeta's recovery, about Prim's role, about two of the most important people in Katniss's life when she wasn't around. And so this arose, and I hope you enjoy it. Let me know either way.

* * *

The small blonde girl stood near the doorway of Peeta's room, watching him warily. His hair, usually tousled but neat, was tangled. She was surprised they hadn't shaved his head, actually, but perhaps he hadn't let them. He had an IV in his left arm for sedative drugs to prevent him from losing his mind- she hoped it was an unnecessary precaution by now, but after seeing one of his flip outs she was glad not to take the chance.

His blues eyes snapped opened. Even a distance they were piercing and haunted.

"Primrose Everdean?" he asked disbelievingly.

"That's me," the girl said, stepping nearer to his bed. She tried not to show her fear. "I thought you might want to play cards."

She pulled a deck out of her pocket and showed him. He nodded wearily in return and motioned towards the tray used for serving his meals.

Seeing him like this, Prim had a hard time reconciling him with the man who had tried to choke her sister to death. And she tried not to feel guilty for disobeying her mother; Mrs. Everdean hadn't been happy with her daughter's obsession with helping Peeta's rehabilitation, although she understood the impulse. But being in the same room during one of his episodes, as the doctors here called them, was dangerous and she had expressly forbidden it.

"Aces high?" she asked, and took his silence for agreement.

Sitting cross-legged on the end of the bed, she dealt out the cards.

"You can go first."

"Age before beauty? Or just pity?" Peeta asked.

Prim wondered if he remembered opening their card games back home in the same manner. After they had moved to the Victor's Village, he had stopped by a couple of times a month to drop off some bread or cakes and had stayed to play a game with the young girl. She had become fond of him then- not Peeta Mellark, Victor of the Hunger Games, or The Star-Crossed Lover, or the Baker's Son, or any other title bestowed upon him by the viewing public. Simply Peeta Mellark.

"I'm very, _very_ good," she answered. "It's the only advantage I'll give you."

The game was a simple one, usually intended for young children. But it was a game everybody knew, and even Peeta managed it without difficulty.

"Do you remember much about home?" Prim asked him after a few minutes of play.

"You had a goat, right? Lady?" replied Peeta.

"Yes. My sist-" Prim stopped herself, but it was too late.

"She's a Mutt. The Capitol made her a Mutt," he said, agitated.

It was if a switch had been flicked in his mind; the Peeta before her was a complete stranger. But it wasn't a violent reaction this time, Prim noted. He was muttering quietly to himself.

"Watch her. Watch the Mutt," he repeated.

The girl reached across the tray and touched Peeta's hand. It seemed to calm him slightly, and his eyes focused on her face.

"Now, really, Peeta," Prim scolded in a gentle tone. "I'm not here to talk about Katniss. It's your go."

It seemed to snap him out of his nightmare. Discussion over, they continued to play. Sometimes they talked, skirting around the larger issues. Prim asked him about bread recipes or about his family. She steered the conversation away from topics that caused his fists to clench and his breathing to become shallow. A handful of times her words prompted a smile, and once even a laugh. Slow progress, but progress nonetheless.

She laid down a Queen and broached a topic she hadn't had the courage to address before. "I wanted to thank you for the cookies."

"Cookies?"

"Do you remember? Everybody at school knew that if we stopped by the bakery on our twelfth birthday you would 'find' one that had been damaged and couldn't be sold."

"Did I?" He sounded bewildered.

"Yes, you did."

Prim's voice was quiet and unassuming, but it might as well have been a shout- it hung between them for several minutes as they continued to play cards in silence. Eventually, their eyes met and Prim laughed.

"You're a good man, Peeta Mellark. Even if you don't believe it."

When their game ended, Prim swept up the cards. She could tell Peeta was tired; he had begun to lean into his pillow and close his eyes when his turn was over. The pack of cards went into her pocket, and she straightened the corner of the bed she had rumpled. Then she made her way to the door, thinking Peeta had fallen asleep.

"Prim?"

The girl stopped, one hand on the door knob.

"Will you come again?"

His voice, one she had heard persuade the entire nation through the television, was hurt and unsure of itself. She turned and gave him a beaming smile.

"Of course. I'll see you tomorrow, Peeta."

And she left. After the door had closed, Prim stopped and took a calming breath. It made her unbalanced, seeing Peeta- sweet, kind Peeta from home- struggle with the Capitol's venom. But she wouldn't give in.

"Your mother and your sister would kill me if they heard I'm helping you with this," Haymitch said from the shadows.

He had been watching the visit through the observation mirror.

Prim shrugged. "Don't say anything then."

Haymitch chuckled. "You're as hard-headed as your sister."

"And she's as hard-headed as you are. He asked me to come again this time. Maybe he'll remember it tomorrow night…" Prim trailed off, smiling wistfully. Then her eyes grew hard. "I'm not letting the Capitol win. He saved Katniss; I owe him this, Haymitch."

"I'm not saying you don't," countered the man. "If anybody can come back from that, it's Peeta. The boy is so pure it makes my head hurt. And you're not much better."

Prim just laughed.

"Come on, it's time for Reflection."

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.

.

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I'd love to hear what you thought.


End file.
